


The fading home

by acrosspontneuf (FangedAngel)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21522391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangedAngel/pseuds/acrosspontneuf
Summary: She knew the moment the sky shattered into spirals of green that her life would change because of it but, as usual, knowledge makes nothing easier.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Isabela
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	The fading home

**Author's Note:**

> A Patron reward for [ the wonderful Aly](https://princessbatteringram.tumblr.com) featuring her amazing OCs, Lottie Hawke and Sparrow. This is set following years of established Bela/Lottie relationship, and Isabela is not dealing well with Lottie's imminent departure to Skyhold, especially as she needs to stay behind to protect their adopted non-binary kiddo, Sparrow.

Day is breaking, and so is the sky. The cottage is at the foot of the mountains, and winter rushes down with its frozen breath, coating everything in delicate patterns of frost. Isabela doesn’t normally wake early, but there is nothing normal about today. She knew the moment the sky shattered into spirals of green that her life would change because of it but, as usual, knowledge makes nothing easier.

Two letters, one from Varric and the other from Alistair were delivered days ago, sealing the upheaval of Isabela’s life. She knows her wife, but she’d hoped the whole running into danger to save the world part of their lives was over. She still craves adventure and always will, but she is no longer willing to accept the risk of loss. She has built a life from the ashes with Lottie, and it has become her normal. Varric occasionally teases her in his long-winded letters about settling down, and once upon a time she would have hated that and would have done everything in her power to prove him wrong, but now what she hates is the thought of all of this disappearing.

They’ve spent years on ships, her and Lottie, but now Sparrow is in their family too. It was Isabela who suggested spending some time on land, surprising both herself and her wife. Ground under her feet has ceased to suggest a lack of freedom, but actually craving some time in which nothing would happen other than domesticity is still a new concept. Despite the newness, Isabela has enjoyed every second, up until the sky broke and shattered all the illusions of futures she’s created in her mind. 

She wants to be back in bed, to hold on to Lottie until the day passes with her staying, but Lottie must leave, and Isabela must get used to her absence once more. She’s forgotten how, which seems irrational, but after all they’ve been through she thought they were owed at least this. She’s also forgotten that being married to Lottie Hawke means that nothing can ever stay calm. Isabela’s restless thoughts have turned to superstition a few times, worrying that she should’ve stuck to the sea and sailed with Lottie and Sparrow far away, where no messenger could reach them, but she knows the Champion’s duties are inescapable. She knows what Lottie is, knows what Lottie must do, knows that her wife will always need to help in some way instead of letting the world crumble into dust, but Isabela still resents it at times. She resents it most now that she’ll have to watch Lottie go without Isabela at her side. They have Sparrow’s safety to think of now, and so Isabela must stay back from the fight, and it’s so very jarring that Isabela hasn’t been able to taste anything other than fear and bitterness for days. It must be done. She hates it, but her need to protect her family must be divided now.

The breaking sun does little to alleviate the chill in the wind, and Isabela knows she should go back inside, but the cottage is old and creaky and Lottie and Sparrow need their rest so Isabela keeps pacing around the cottage in disarrayed patterns. She’s wearing so many damnable layers but she’s still shivering, so she walks faster, frost crackling under her boots. She keeps looking back at the cottage like it’s about to be assailed. It’s been their haven, a beautiful comfortable escape. It was always meant to be temporary, but it was never meant to be stolen from them too soon.

Isabela has woken late every day until now to the sound of Lottie and Sparrow laughing, chasing each other through the garden and then bursting through the bedroom door with arms full of late autumn flowers and sweet-smelling herbs. The cottage belongs to some old acquaintance of Lottie’s, someone grateful for some favour that Lottie has bestowed, someone with another house in the middle of civilisation. Isabela found herself enjoying the peace of isolation, cooking spicy Rivaini stews while Sparrow and Lottie experimented with tea leaves they found in beautifully painted boxes laden with dust, mementoes of other people’s past lives.

Isabela told Sparrow stories in the firelight until they fell asleep and Lottie carried them to bed, returning by the fire to rest her head in Isabela’s lap. They’d talk of everything and nothing, and drink brandy, and kiss, and Isabela hadn’t thought she’d have a home on land, but she realised her home would be found in any place she shared with her wife. And now, Lottie is going somewhere Isabela can’t follow.

Despite having been part of their family for a while now, Sparrow still goes from sleeping to awake instantly, like they still constantly need to watch their own back. Lottie is the one who usually gets out of bed around the same time, but Isabela is always aware of both of them, even when she sleeps in as much as she likes. She knows that she won’t do much luxuriating in bed in the coming months, but her instinct alerts her to movement in the cottage. She’s almost next to the door, so she can hear the floorboards creaking, following Sparrow’s steps as they bounce from one edge of the hall to another, hurriedly making their way to the bedroom door, which opens with a bang. Isabela can hear Sparrow saying ‘mama!’ followed by a muffled sound of protest from Lottie, and it’s heartbreakingly normal in a way that makes Isabela walk around the cottage once more before heading inside.

Isabela sat next to Lottie well into the dark of night, planning the moves ahead and how to react according to what would come. Isabela knows how long to wait without news until making her way back to sea. Lottie knows where to write and where to go if everything goes to shit. They’ve done as much as they could within the magnitude of everything they don’t know and can’t control, but it gives Isabela little comfort. She’s so tired of fighting the battles of others, so tired of living in constant threat. It’s all she’s wanted to leave behind, but now she must watch, and plan, and not let herself be consumed by fear. She can’t protect Lottie, but she can protect Sparrow.

When she finally goes back inside, warmth envelops her, but she can’t quite rub the feeling back into her hands. The sound of the door alerts Sparrow, who’s ensconced in a pile of blankets on the bedroom floor, with the hat they’ve once more stolen from Isabela crookedly placed on their head.

‘Captain!’ they say, and Isabela rolls her eyes but Sparrow has never been impressed by that, not even the day they met. Sparrow tends to call her ‘Bela’, like Lottie does, but their uncle Varric kept calling Isabela ‘captain’ until Sparrow started imitating him, to his endless amusement

‘Sweet bird, I can’t be a captain, nor an admiral, if I am without my hat,’ she says, and by the time Sparrow reaches out with both hands to hold on to the hat, Isabela has danced around them and reclaimed it.

Sparrow laughs, loudly and gleefully, their tooth gap on display, and Isabela is painfully reminded of how young they are and how much they need the safety of a home and a family.

Lottie’s head is buried under a mountain of pillows, but her hand is tense where she’s clutching the blanket Sparrow hasn’t stolen, and Isabela’s heart sinks further when she realises Lottie’s warmth will be gone from their sheets by evening, so she walks out of the room to hide the expression on her face.

Sparrow falls after her into the small kitchen, enticed by the idea of preparing breakfast for ‘mama’ . They accompany Isabela’s cooking with a terrible Fereldan song that no one sees her smile along to, and then Lottie joins them. She distracts Sparrow by drawing ice petals along the window, her magic almost crackling in the air, and Isabela desperately wishes she could preserve this forever but she can’t.

They all pick at their food, and Isabela doesn’t watch Lottie saying goodbye to Sparrow. She will not cry. She is an admiral of the seas, a leader of ships, and she will not cry.

She walks outside with Lottie while Sparrow stays in the warmth of the cottage. Lottie will walk to the nearest village, where a mount is waiting, and from there to the new Inquisition and a broken sky and an uncertain future dealing with the ghosts of the past.

They end up standing in the middle of the road, Lottie looming over Isabela with her unfair height advantage and Isabela still wearing her hat, feeling more powerless than she has in years. Lottie’s hair is shorter than it used to be, but it still falls into her eyes and Isabela still brushes it away, and her hands will miss Lottie, her entire body will, let alone her mind.

‘Bela, I-‘

Isabela kisses her instead of letting her finish, because they’ve never been ones for words on momentous occasions. There’s desperation in the kiss and in their hands, Isabela accidentally brushing against the sharp end of Lottie’s staff in her haste to hold on to her shoulders, Lottie grabbing her hips and picking her up in that way that Isabela scolds her for to hide how it makes her knees turn weak.

They breathe together until snow starts dancing around them on the wind and Isabela is shaking again, and Lottie has to go because light fades fast, but Isabela has to force herself to let go.

Lottie looks at her with those captivating eyes of hers and her kissed mouth, and Isabela has to let her go, has to stay behind.

‘Come back to me, Lottie Hawke,’ she says, trying to keep her voice steady when Lottie takes her hand and kisses her palm, her lips warm against Isabela’s cold skin.

‘Is that an order, admiral?’ Lottie asks, her grin trying its best to seem carefree.

Isabela laughs shakily and lets her hand linger along the pulse point at Lottie’s neck just to feel the rhythm of her heart beating.

‘If you don’t I’ll have to chase after you wherever you might be. You know I can’t allow mutiny.’

Lottie smiles and presses her forehead to Isabela’s and they share one last breath before Isabela turns, making her way back to the cottage, and refusing to watch Lottie walk away from her.


End file.
